


A Warrior Must Also Observe

by susako



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Background Relationships, Developing Friendships, Gen, Mass Effect 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 12:14:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susako/pseuds/susako
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shepard orders Javik to walk around the Normandy and talk to the crew, get to know them. He'll walk because he wants to stretch his legs. But he won't talk unless he has to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Warrior Must Also Observe

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for ryuosen for the Mass Effect Community December Gift Exchange on Livejournal. The prompt was "Javik because I adore him and his interactions with different members of the crew up until the very end".

Javik stayed silent all through the Commander’s brief tour of the room where he would be staying. The tour was unnecessary - everything was visible from the door. All he had needed was to be shown to it and then left alone but the Commander trailed the walls, saying things that Javik eventually stopped listening to.

Finally, the Commander looked at him as if expecting a response. “This is sufficient,” Javik said.

The Commander knew better than to say anything further. “Well, try and get some rest,” he said plainly. “I’ll introduce you properly to the crew tomorrow.” The door whispered shut and Javik was left to his own devices.

There is nothing to say and there is nobody he wants to talk to. As for getting some rest, he had slept for thousands of years. Why would he want to sleep any more?

What a useless exercise. Just introduce him to the nearest weapons chamber or whatever it is in this strange future and introduce him to the nearest Reaper camp or wherever the enemy was the most vulnerable. That would be a better use of his time.

 

 

It isn't long before he loses his temper with the Asari, not that he had a particularly long fuse to begin with. 

She stopped by on the very first day in the hope of talking to him. Javik stayed sullenly silent once more while she attempted to make ‘small talk’, asking about how he was enjoying the ship (even though he had only been there less than twenty-four hours, had physically seen less than 50% of it and couldn’t say that the word ‘enjoy’ applied to any of his experience so far), how he liked his living quarters (‘like’ wasn’t the word that could apply to a place that was purely functional) and whether he had everything to make himself comfortable (again, ‘comfortable’ was not the word that could or should be applied to a place that was purely functional).

It was the way that she looked at him, the way that she spoke to him and the way that she carried herself in his presence. It was equal parts excited curiosity and almost religious reverence. Both of those reactions were, in Javik’s eyes, annoying and unnecessary. He disliked annoying. He absolutely despised unnecessary.

Before she could open her mouth again to ask how he was _adjusting_ , Javik turned his head sharply. Until that point, he had been standing with his back to her. The surprise at the action registered all too clearly in her eyes.

"Do you not have anything better to do, Asari?" he spat. 

"I just wanted to ask—"

"You have asked many things. Many times. I do not wish to answer any more of your questions."

She blinked a few times before nodding. "You must be tired, I'm sorry—"

"Do not be sorry. Be gone."

She obeyed hurriedly. 

Javik resumed staring at the wall. A few minutes later, he traced his hand across it. He could feel a film of aggression and rage on it. ‘Comforting’ isn’t quite the word. ‘Familiar’ is closer. 

 

 

The Commander wanted him to walk around the ship, encouraged him to talk to people. Javik walks, but mostly because he wants to stretch his legs – he doesn’t talk to anyone. One evening, it becomes troublesome to pace the same length of floor or stand on the same side of the room. He has found that since waking, he is even less partial to being still than he used to be.

He finds himself in front of a map station. He had never really taken the time to study the stars; that was for someone else to do while he was down on the ground fighting. Javik observes the blinking lights, the markers that point to places of importance and the troubling silhouettes of reaper ships, highlighting their positions.

It makes him angry, so he turns away, ignoring the crew members who give him curious looks as he stalks past.

 

 

On another evening, the Commander seems displeased that Javik has been doing the walking on the ship, but not the talking. He finds himself in the cockpit, the Commander unsubtly escorting him there, pointing out a few things of interest and then conveniently being called away.

“It is a poor vessel that relies heavily on a machine to control it,” Javik observes.

“Was… that insult directed at me or at EDI?” The Pilot turns away from the controls briefly to scowl in his direction.

“It was not an insult. It was an observation.”

“Hey buddy, you got something to say about me, then say it to me. If it’s about EDI, you can say it to her.”

So be it. The Commander wanted him to talk as well, so he will talk. Javik turned to the machine, who fixed him with a mechanical stare. "I do not trust your position of power on this ship. Were it up to me, I would deactivate you and have all of your components crushed."

"Good thing it's not up to you then, buddy." The Pilot pipes up before the machine can respond.

Javik looked sharply at the Pilot. "Nothing good comes from becoming attached to machinery."

"Noted. Now get out of here, some of us have a ship to fly."

As Javik leaves, he hears the machine speak to the pilot.

“Your intervention was not necessary.”

“Let me have this one, EDI. Let me bask in the glory for just a second, okay?”

“As you wish, Jeff.”

 

 

“You know,” the Specialist says to him at one point while he stands looking at a map of the ship on yet another night, “I could show you how to pull up some things if you wanted to look at anything more closely.”

Javik looks over at the human female. He always sees her pressing buttons. “Does it involve pressing buttons?”

“Almost. They’re not actually buttons, they’re—” He isn’t making a particular expression but she sees something which makes her break off her sentence. “In a way, yes.”

“Then I am not interested. Your interfaces are painfully primitive.”

“But they’re the only way to get information on this ship.” She taps away at her workstation, turning her eyes downward. “And information is very useful. I can show you how.”

“I do not require your assistance.”

She nods. “Okay.” She presses something and a picture of a structure appears. It is the Citadel, something which he has been curious about but… After a little while, he notices that she is working slower than before, more carefully, pausing between each movement. His eyes follow her hands.

He doesn’t have the time to be insulted at the subtle demonstration. “These are accessible from my quarters?”

“You can access most things from any terminal on the ship.” She still doesn’t look at him, she continues scrolling through pages of text and interesting images. “Some things are classified, but the majority of material—”

“Fine.” 

Javik spends a long time after that reading. The interface is annoying, but it does its job.

 

 

If she sends that stupid glowing ball down here again to investigate, or to bring him some useless item he will send that item back to her as a well-compressed cube. Javik tells the Commander as much and he simply raises an eyebrow.

“If you have a problem with Liara, you could always try speaking to her.”

Javik stares at the Commander, who stares back just as steadily.

“Commander, you have a new message at your private terminal.” The interruption from the Specialist is timely, Javik thinks. “This is something you’ll want to see now.”

“I’ll be right there,” the Commander says. “Javik, I get that you don’t want to like people. But you still have to work with them. To do that, you need to at least get to know their names. You’re also staying here. You need to get to know the ship. Keep walking. Start talking. We want to learn from you. Maybe we can teach you something too.”

Javik doubts that very much but the Commander leaves before he can say anything.

 

 

“Oh, hey.” The Other Pilot who usually resides downstairs looks up when he enters. “What brings you here, Javik?”

Javik blinks. “The Commander wanted me to walk around the ship.”

“I see.” The Other Pilot smiles at him. “Well, is there anything I can show you in the armory? We could maybe make some modifications to your primary weapon if you’re finding it lacks a little punch.”

“Maybe.”

There’s a long silence between them. Eventually, the Other Pilot moves to sit down before continuing to talk. “Were you hoping to see someone in particular?”

“No.”

“Figured not.” He laughs.

“There is little of interest down here.”

“No, there isn’t really.” He laughs again. It’s strange because everyone else is either silent or finds something else to do or talk about. “Well, I’m interesting but James isn’t. He can be pretty one-dimensional.” He laughs once more and Javik thinks someone is being mocked but the laughter is too soft and gentle for that. “Usually just training or talking trash.”

Javik looks across the room and sees the table covered with equipment and the towels resting to one side. He moves to leave; there is nothing to see down here.

“You know,” the Other Pilot says just before Javik presses the button for the elevator, “he’s not a bad guy. James, I mean. None of us are bad guys.”

Javik says nothing. 

The elevator doors open and the Soldier walks into the room, nodding to Javik and holding out a hand to the Other Pilot as he sweeps past. The Other Pilot reaches backwards and the two of them slap palms casually. The Soldier continues on his way. The Other Pilot goes back to his work.

Javik boards the elevator. He can hear the snatches of a song the Soldier whistles just before the doors close.

 

 

Javik does not understand what the Quarian is babbling about, nor why she is talking so quickly, nor why she is so jumpy in his presence. He doesn’t understand why she breathes a sigh when he turns and leaves the room, having lost interest in even pretending to want to stand there any longer. What does it matter? He has done what the Commander asked and walked around the ship at least once. It is time for him to return to his quarters. He feels a strong desire to wash his hands. The action has become hypnotic and necessary.

 

 

He is unsure of what real purpose the Quarian serves until he witnesses her doing her usual mysterious tapping at the glowing orange device on her arm in battle while huddled down. It is then that he sees a drone turn on its former controller. The surprised shout and the subsequent twitching foot just visible behind the crate as the body drops to the floor makes him laugh a little. Javik moves forward through the now-clear path.

 

 

Javik can hear voices in the distance. He turns his head to see the machine releasing the Pilot’s hand. The two of them return to their stations.

It cannot be genuine affection. It is simply not possible. 

He moves his attention back to the map he was looking at, focusing carefully on the red glowing outlines of menacing, tall ships.

 

 

If he has to say that he likes someone on the crew, then he would probably pick the Turian. Javik comes to that conclusion while standing in the gun battery, visiting at another one of the Commander’s ‘suggestions’.

“It is a cowardly creature who fights from afar.” Javik folds his arms.

“Not necessarily.” The Turian sets down his sniper rifle and turns to a workstation, starting to settle down to his usual set of actions, running through various measurements, checking and cross-checking. He does it daily; Javik appreciates his patience. He can understand wanting to have detailed control of your weapons. “You don’t need to be in the thickest part of the action to do the most damage,” the Turian continues.

The following day, Javik sees a head explode to his right and reluctantly, he agrees.

 

 

They are in battle. It is dark and full of shadows. Wherever the Reapers go they bring darkness.

In the distance, he thinks he sees a head that looks vaguely like his, sees a body that has similar dimensions to his. He thinks that it must be an indoctrinated Prothean, but that cannot be - he is the only Prothean. His mind makes the logical jumps. What did they call them? What did it say in the dossier? Collect—

Before he knows it, Javik is charging forward, every inch of his being promising bloody vengeance. He is heading towards the silhouette, ready to charge through all of the enemies that are—

“Javik!” The shout is strong and authoritative, both a warning and a command. The two shots that pass close by his head take out two enemies in front of him. Their bodies crumple to the floor and Javik shoots another one in the chest before punching one more from the left with his elbow. The crunch of bone and flesh is satisfying, the scent of blood is more so. Another two on his left are incapacitated by more skilled shots from behind and then his surroundings are empty except for the disgusting creatures left on the floor. The quiet aftermath of death and victory descends.

The silhouette is gone. Javik lowers his weapon and turns to see who helped him. The machine is taking the opportunity to reload. In the distance, he cannot see the Turian’s sniper rifle, he is too well-hidden but Javik casts a brief glance at a body on the floor, sees the hole above what passes as the left eye and knows why it is there. To one side, he glimpses the Soldier shaking the Major’s hand briefly in a show of solidarity. Finally, he looks at the Commander.

“If you charge forward like that, we’ve got your back.” The Commander doesn’t wipe the gore from his face or the sweat from his brow. “But don’t do it against orders. Keep it together.”

Javik, after a long moment of consideration, nods.

“Right.” The Commander looks around at everyone who stands waiting, ready. “Let’s keep going.”

Javik is first behind him.

 

 

Javik finds the Major sitting in a room at a table, performing strange movements with pieces of card. Javik doesn’t question the movements but watches as the cards fold together in a strange way so that they are more randomized than before.

“Is there something I can help you with?” The Major looks up upon noticing his presence.

“No.”

“Alright then.” The Major returns to his cards.

“You have recovered from your injury.”

“Yeah, thanks for asking.” The Major shrugs. “It’s nice to actually get back into it, to really do something in the fight.”

Javik can understand that feeling.

“I wasn’t going to let a little something like nearly being killed stop me, anyway.” The Major snaps the cards together back into a neat stack with a brief and practiced movement, accompanied by a wry smile.

No, Javik wasn’t going to, either. He had nearly died many times, but he wasn’t dead yet. Tenacity was a prized quality in all leaders, in his eyes.

“Why did you submit yourself to command?” Javik asks suddenly. “Were you not in command of your own—”

“It’s not about submitting,” the Major interrupts. “It’s about trust, loyalty and knowing that the job will get done. You’ve led before, right?” He looks up from the cards and right at Javik. “You know what it’s like, right?” When Javik doesn’t answer, the Major nods and spreads the cards on the table. “Sometimes it’s about knowing that someone else can do what nobody else can.”

The patterned backs of the cards are uniform and bright on the plain surface of the table.

“You know,” the Major continues, “you should join us in a game one evening.”

“I doubt that your games are as good as the ones that I know how to play.”

“Maybe not… but these games are good for getting to know people.” The Major takes a single card and uses its edge to overturn one card at the end. With the way they are positioned, carefully overlapping, the rest of the cards follow, turning over in a smooth motion. “You find out who people are when you play Poker. It’s a good game.”

Javik looks around at the empty seats. “I will consider it,” he says finally, before leaving.

 

 

When they return to the Normandy after the Drell’s death, Javik watches the Commander closely. The Commander walks through the Command Centre, pulling off his equipment as he goes, heading straight for the elevator. He says nothing further to anyone and punches the button a little too hard.

Javik watches the Commander step in, watches him stand tall as the doors shut. It’s something he can understand.

When the Commander comes down a few hours later with a set jaw and dry eyes, it’s something that Javik approves of.

As the days go on and the losses start to mount, the Commander’s strength is something that Javik comes to notice more. He felt like that too, he knows he did. He still does. It’s something they share.

 

 

The Commander wheels round but too slowly. The first shot hits his shields but the impact sends him rocking back a little, disorienting him enough so that the second shot will make its target.

It doesn’t. Javik throws a lift grenade with deadly accuracy and the enemy is sent flying into the air. The second shot goes wide as the gun spins out of his hand.

The Commander looks at Javik, nods once, then continues on. Javik does the same.

 

 

“What do you think?” the Quarian asks, the light from the display reflecting on the visor of her helmet.

Javik looks at the Crucible plans, the image of the structure slowly rotating. “I think that it is not the only thing that we can do.”

“I know but…” He sees her fingers tighten on the edge of the console. “I think that this… is beautiful. All of the pieces are coming together. Not just what’s on the ground or what’s on other planets… Everything is coming together. I like it when all of the parts come together.”

“Especially,” Javik says flatly, “if the goal is the destruction of the reapers.”

“Yes.” The Quarian nods. “It’s… beautiful.” She is still looking at the image. It is full of complicated notes, markers and calculations. Javik can understand what they point to well enough, though.

“Yes,” he agrees.

 

The Asari’s voice comes through clear on the intercom. “You called, Javik? Is there something I can help you with?”

“I did not want to walk through the ship tonight. I wanted to stay here.”

“Okay…”

They stay in silence for a long time over the intercom until Javik disconnects.

The next night, they find something to talk about. She isn’t as irritating with her questions as she used to be.

 

 

"Come on, Buggy. Afraid you might get beat by a lowly human? We've been in training for all these years. What have you been doing? Sitting on your ass, right?" The Soldier flashes his teeth at him in a gesture of cheerful confidence and jabs once or twice with his hands.

Javik recognizes the posturing. He can remember doing much of the same - criticizing the quality of someone's breeding and citing it as a reason for their consistently poor performance. He almost lets out a chuckle at this human's participation in a similar ritual. It is true that some things never change. "I could beat you even if I was still asleep, human."

"Oh, it's on!" The Soldier lets out a bark of laughter and claps his broad hands, rubbing them together in anticipation.

"James, you better move to the side. Clear out some more space." The Other Pilot who usually works is standing nearby, watching, having stood up from his station when he realized where this was going. His dark eyes survey the pair carefully.

Before anyone can do anything further, Javik sweeps a few large boxes aside with a simple pulse. "Do not interrupt," he warns the Other Pilot who spreads his hands in a gesture of understanding and backs away. Javik turns his attention back to his opponent, who raises his fists and sinks into a solid yet adaptable stance.

"Come," Javik tells him.

They spar, and they spar well. The human is not only strong but he is surprisingly agile. He is also proud and too reliant on his bulk and brute force, which makes him an easy opponent to taunt. To his credit, whenever Javik lands a strong hit, the human says nothing, taking the blow and going back for more, again and again. Determined creatures, these humans. The knowledge makes Javik dance on his feet, pleased.

Finally, the human is knocked to the floor by a brutal combination of hits. He looks up at Javik's unsmiling face and nods.

Javik nods in return and offers him a hand up which the human takes in a strong, assured grip.

 

 

"Do not try to outstare me. You will not win."

"Hey, I'm not staring." The Major spreads his hands wide. "Who's staring?"

"You are," Javik answers shortly.

"Now now, gentlemen. This is a civilized game. Play nice." The Commmander speaks in a serious tone but Javik can see a smile playing in the corner of his eye. "And yes, Javik, I know - us humans wouldn't know civilized if it hit us in the face."

Javik tries not to show that he is impressed by the Commander's anticipation of his next sentence but merely huffs and examines his cards.

"Playing Poker with humans is too easy," the Turian remarks after they have been silent for a little while. "All of you are just so... readable. Too many shades of colour in your skin, too many individual muscles in your face."

"You can talk," the Pilot says with a grin tapping the visor of his cap in a mocking salute. "Your tell is in the movement of those mandibles - I can see what you're thinking."

"Oh? And what am I thinking now?" The Turian raises a finger in a rude human gesture.

Javik laughs along with everyone else. He can't help it. Nobody comments on it, but he can feel the atmosphere in the small room change a little and reluctantly, he prefers it.

It isn't the last time he plays cards with the crew. The next few times, he is remarkably punctual for their appointment.

 

 

The door opens and it is the Asari. He has been expecting her.

“Are you going to Shepard’s party later?” she asks, standing in the doorway.

“Yes.” Javik nods to emphasise the point. “Although I’m not convinced that it is wise to be… relaxing… in such a time, I will be there.”

“I was thinking of heading down to the Citadel for a little bit, looking for a gift. I wanted to bring something to Shepard’s apartment. It’s… kind of traditional.”

“I would not bring a gift unless it was food or something else practical,” Javik tells her. “Anything else would be a waste of time.”

“I suppose.” She smiles a little. Her mouth moves only slightly – it’s more visible in her expressive eyes. “Would you like to help me pick something out? You have a good eye for the practical.”

Javik shakes his head and sees her look shift towards disappointment. “I have been asked to do something else.”

“Oh. I see.” The Asari nods understandingly.

“Perhaps…” Javik’s gaze is unwavering but it doesn’t unnerve her like it used to. “I could contact you later. We could find this thing you require together and bring it to the Commander.”

Her surprise is quickly replaced with happiness although she does her best to suppress her smile. “Sure. You know how to contact me?”

“Yes. I know how to work all of the primitive equipment.”

“Sure.” She turns to leave. “I’ll see you later. Then we can go and meet everyone else.”

“Yes. See you later, Liara.” Her name comes easily. Javik thinks nothing of it.

She turns and this time, she doesn’t attempt to tone down her emotions, her silly, childlike emotions. “See you later, Javik.”


End file.
